


Slack

by prick_and_murrty



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Biting, Blood, Bondage, Collars, Dom/sub, Jack switches mood fast, Jack typical violence, Leashes, M/M, Mood Swings, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Rough in general, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 19:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11698644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prick_and_murrty/pseuds/prick_and_murrty
Summary: “Lookin’ a little blue there, kiddo.” Jack says, eyeing his dick for emphasis. “You about to come?”





	Slack

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a fic request @prick-and-murrty.tumblr.com

Jack tightens his grip on the leash, tugging hard and smirking as Rhys chokes, his mouth dropping open as a stream of spit dribbles out. Jack clicks his tongue, pressing his boot against Rhys’ bare thigh, applying just enough pressure to make Rhys’ leg twitch with effort to keep himself up. 

“What did I tell you, sweetheart?” Jack asks, voice high and condescending. Rhys is shaking with the effort to keep himself up, making cut off noises against the tightening collar around his neck. Every little noise makes Jack shiver, a rush of adrenaline and lust and power surging through him, and he feels his cock twitch.

“I told you to sit, didn't I?” To his credit, Rhys does try to answer, but can't get anything more than a strangled gurgle out. Jack pauses. Rhys’ eyes are rolling up into the back of his head and his face is just starting to get a little blue, and as much as Jack would  _ love  _ keeping the pressure on until Rhys passes out, he’s got plans tonight. Letting the leash go slack, Jack’s eyebrows raise as Rhys gasps for air, his shoulders sagging heavily.   


“What was that?”

“Y-Yes.” Rhys coughs, his voice rough and ruined already. He shifts, tugging on his bonds, twisting his torso with frustration. His dick is straining and rock hard between his legs, and it looks like it hurts - Jack  _ would  _ reach a hand down to help him out but. He still hasn't sat. 

“Yes,  _ what?” _ Jack bites out, lowering his face so he's a breath away from Rhys’ mouth. Rhys whines, trying to angle himself in for a kiss but Jack keeps himself just out of reach. 

“Yes,  _ sir. _ ” He says, loud and defiant. Well  _ that’s  _ no good. Jack clicks his tongue again, sharply, and feels a dark sense of pleasure when Rhys’ eyes widen in realization. “Wait -” He starts, pulling away instinctively, but Jack’s still got a hold on the leash.    
  
So when he pulls on it Rhys falls forwards with a cut off protest and his face is directly on Jacks dick. Jack sucks in a breath and fights the urge to give in and fuck Rhys’ mouth. But he’d planned out what he wants to do tonight, and he knows full well if he gets side tracked that it’s not happening anytime soon.    
  
He does give in a little, bucking against Rhys’ open mouth. Rhys tries to rub his face against him, maybe hoping it will cause Jack to be lenient, but moving too much makes the leash around his neck tighten and he can’t keep it up for long. After another beat Jack lets him go and Rhys sags against him heavily.    
  
“Wanna try that again, princess?” Rhys is nodding against his thigh, tilting his head up to look at Jack, eyes watery and red.    
  
“Yes, sir.” He repeats, but this time his voice is broken and needy,  _ begging,  _ and Jack smiles at him and hums. “But I-” Rhys starts on a protest, but Jack jerks the leash taut again and revels in the way Rhys’ words cut off and his head is forced to angle up towards him.  

“Ah ah ah,” Jack puts his free hand to Rhys’ shoulder, pressing down slightly. “No ‘buts’.” With the additional pressure from his foot, Rhys slips down an inch and his face crumples as he lets out a choked sob. At this point the only reason he’s  _ not  _ being forced down is the leash. That’s okay. Jack can change that. Rhys is gargling out a slurry of ‘please’ and ‘sir’, and Jack grins sharply.    
  
“I said _ sit. _ ” Jack lets the leash go again, pushing Rhys the rest of the way down so he impales himself on the, honestly, oversized toy beneath him. The look on Rhys’ face is priceless, just as is the broken cry he makes.    
  
Rhys is breathing hard, tears wetting the edges of his eyes, and Jack lets the leash go in favor of cupping both his hands to Rhys’ cheeks. Rhys doesn’t try to sit up again.

“Good boy,” Jack purrs, all honey and heat, and that's got Rhys rocking involuntarily down on the dildo. Jack smirks at the grunt Rhys makes as he does. Jack presses a light kiss to Rhys’ forehead, and is pleased and disgusted at the needy way Rhys presses into it.    
  
Most of him is overly happy about Rhys needing him  _ so much,  _ but part of him hates that weakness and wants to cut it out of Rhys with his bare hands. But that defeats the purpose of having Rhys at his every beck and call.    
  
“Now,” Jack says, as he pulls away again, Rhys pouting at the loss of contact. Jack rolls his shoulders back. “Fuck yourself.”   
  
“What?” Rhys squeaks out, suddenly looking panicked. It’s almost funny - that he gets embarrassed  _ now.  _ But then again, Jack’s never asked him to go solo before, never really  _ wanted  _ him to, so he understands Rhys’ surprise. He still laughs, though.   
  
“You heard me, pumpkin, fuck yourself. And don’t come.” Jack strokes the leash, eyeing it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He can see Rhys practically drooling in his peripheral. “You know what’ll happen if you come, right, Rhys?”    
  
“Punishment?” Rhys is asking so  _ shyly,  _ like if he gets it wrong he’ll be in trouble. It’s goddamn adorable. Jack hums again, looking at Rhys, and when he speaks his voice is sugar coated and prideful, just the way he knows Rhys loves it.    
  
“That’s right, baby. You’ll get punished,” Jack notices the way Rhys’ dick jerks at his praise and he can’t help the wolfish grin that spreads on his face. “So go on, get to work.” Jack is taking a step back, waving a hand to cue Rhys to start. His desk is right behind him, and he bumps into it with another step.    
  
The leash just barely reaches, and if he were to tug on it at all Rhys would choke. Jack puts a little pressure on it, just to test, and is pleased when Rhys’ breathing stutters out for a half second. He lets it go slack again after that, leaning back and resting up against his desk, getting comfortable for the show.    
  
Rhys starts up, slowly at first, testing the waters. His face is scrunched up in an uncomfortable wince - not that it really hurts, but they’ve not used toys in a while so it’s at least an unfamiliar feeling. Not to say Jack would be against it hurting, at least a  _ little.  _ Rhys is finally getting up a rhythm, his thighs shaking with the effort of moving him.    
  
Jack fights back the urge to bark at him, order him around - as fun as that is, he’s here for the show more than anything. Just as Rhys  _ finally  _ starts making little grunts as he bounces, Jack loops the leash around his hand so it won’t fall and he cups himself through his pants, hissing.    
  
The noise draws Rhys’ gaze, and Jack can feel the spike in desperation like the air has shifted. He laughs, tugging on the leash to offset Rhys’ pace, reveling in the way Rhys’ breath catches  _ just  _ so. 

“Well, keep going,” Jack says, like he hadn't just purposefully distracted Rhys. “I didn't tell you to stop.”    
  
“Yes, sir,” Rhys whines out and he starts up his pace again, but his eyes are glued to Jack’s hand, and Jack can’t help but chuckle. He’s so  _ needy _ . Jack thrusts against his hand a few times, before unclasping the latch on his belt buckle. It’s a little hard, one handed, but it’s not like he’s not had practice.    
  
He gets it open faster than most, taking himself in hand as he tilts his head up so he’s looking down his nose at Rhys. Rhys’ mouth drops open on a silent moan at the sight. Jack gives himself a slow, firm stroke, his brows twisting together slightly and he hums.    
  
It feels good, but Jack’s in no kind of rush today, so instead of seeking his release he keeps a slow pace - just enough to feel it, but not enough for the end. Todays not about him - okay, well, it  _ is,  _ but what he wants has to do with Rhys’ pleasure more than his own. Or, pain, really.    
  
Rhys is panting loudly, making these little keening noises as he practically  _ drools  _ over the sight of Jack stroking himself. His cock is already weeping, bouncing and flushed red between his legs. He struggles some more against his bonds, and Jack knows he’s aching to touch himself. He always is.    
  
Honestly Rhys can’t keep his hands off of himself - or Jack, for that matter - for very long like this. Normally Jack wouldn’t care that much - yet the sight of him choking back tears through his fog haze of lust makes Jack moan and squeeze himself a little too tightly. The pain is bliss. God, how he loves watching Rhys fall apart. It’s a kind of power trip that usually only comes when he kills someone. But when he’s making Rhys choke or cry or  _ beg  _ it’s almost the exact same feeling, and honestly, it’s more entertaining. But only just.    
  
Jack sighs and sags a little against the desk, satisfaction and lazy lust tugging at him, pulling him down slightly. Really, he could wait here all day - probably could keep himself from coming for near as long - and he’s just about tempted to.    
  
It’d be easy, keeping Rhys on the edge, watching him cry every time his release is refused, and Jack would just laugh and keep teasing him - all the while never moving from the desk. Antagonizing him. Instead Jack lets his head loll to the side, humming low and gravelly, deep in his chest. Rhys’ dick twitches at the noise.   
  
“Lookin’ a little blue there, kiddo.” Jack says, eyeing his dick for emphasis. “You about to come?”   
  
“Y-Y _ es _ ,” Rhys gets it out in one, draw out breath, tipping forwards towards Jack. He’s not sure if it’s on purpose, or accident, but it’s adorable either way. Jack clicks his tongue and takes a step forwards, his hand pulling the leash taut again. Rhys’ mouth drops open and he bucks, his entire body shaking with the effort of doing so. Jack comes to him, just out of reach, looping the leash around his hand as he walks.    
  
“Come, and I’ll break each and every one of your fingers with the heel of my boot.” Jack’s voice is cold, sharp, uncaring in a way he only gets when he’s serious. And he is - he’s more than willing to follow through on his threat. It’s got Rhys’ eyes widening and he’s pulling away and biting his bottom lip red, the distance making the leash get just the more tight.    
  
He’s stopped fucking himself on the toy, but Jack’s not too concerned about it. Jack smirks, lets his cock go in favor of carding his fingers through Rhys’ already mussed hair instead. It’s enough to get Rhys to relax, to come back closer to him, where Jack’d wanted him from the start. Then his grip tightens and he wrenches Rhys’ head back, earning a pained gasp from him. Jack’s growling as he bends down and licks a long, hot stripe up Rhys’ jaw, biting when he gets to his ear.    
  
“You’d probably like that though, wouldn’t you, Rhysie? You little sicko,” Jack blows hot air against Rhys’ ear. “You wanna bleed, baby?” Rhys is moaning, high and loud, nodding his head frantically. Jack grins against his cheek, rolling Rhys’ head to the side with the grip he’s still got on his hair.    
  
Very gently Jack pushes the collar out of the way, and then he’s got his teeth sunk deep into Rhys’ neck, can feel the hot gush of blood as he breaks the skin and the vibrations of Rhys’ scream through it. Jack moans, pressing his tongue against the wound as he laps up the blood. Rhys is whimpering, hurt and broken, but as Jack casts a glance down it’s pretty apparent Rhys is more than a little pleased by the pain.    
  
Jack pulls away, pleased with the coppery tang left in his mouth, and he’s letting Rhys’ head go in favor of slipping his forefinger and thumb across the still bleeding wound. He cups Rhys’ face again, and presses his thumb to his mouth, painting his lips red with his own blood.    
  
The contrast against his skin is beautiful, almost as good as seeing the blood on himself, and Jack slips his finger inside and against Rhys cheek to pull his mouth open harshly. His other finger leaves trails of red against the side of Rhys’ face, Rhys letting his tongue spill out along with a long stream of spit.    
  
Jack makes a face as the spit falls onto the floor, just barely missing Rhys’ dick, and he lets the leash go in favor of slipping two fingers into the collar around his neck instead. Rhys is tipping forwards, little noises spilling past his lips as he tries to press himself against Jack. It’s cute. Jack pulls him backwards by the collar and keeps Rhys away from him, much to his dismay. Rhys lets out a whine,  pushing forwards and trying his damndest to reach Jack. Jack clicks his tongue and pulls on the collar, easily keeping Rhys where he is.   
  
“Ah - ah,” Jack scolds, using his now free - and bloodied - hand to grasp his cock again. “Stay there, be a good boy and sit still.” He gives himself a long stroke, moaning at the feeling of it. In the same motion, he lifts his foot up and presses the sole of his boot against Rhys’ dick.    
  
Rhys makes a startled, strained noise, and Jack can see the tension snapping across him to keep himself from bucking against Jack. Jack starts a gentle up and down motion, giving just the slightest pressure to his dick, Rhys’ making little _ ‘huh huh huh’ _ noises in time with his thrusts.    
  
Every now and again Rhys pushes forwards, trying to touch Jack, but Jack keeps him at arms length. Jack keeps his eyes trained to Rhys’ face, a bored, lazy drag to his hand as he strokes himself. Rhys’ looks like he’s about to cry, dark satisfaction burning in Jack’s chest as he can  _ feel  _ deep in his bones that Rhys is about to break.    
  
It never takes much to get him like this, never too hard to push Rhys to the point where he’s so desperate he loses his coherence. It’s only a few more minutes before Rhys lets out a broken sob and sags in Jack’s hold.   
  
“J- _ Jack… _ p-please. I can’t - I need to…  _ please  _ l-let me,” Rhys cuts himself off with a hiccup, his breathing stuttery and broken, and Jack grins. “Let me come, please, J-Jack.”    
  
“Hmm,” Jack hums in mock thought, not stopping his ministrations. “Ask nicely, and maybe I’ll consider it, sweetheart.” Rhys whines, but takes a steadying breath, steeling himself away long enough for his words to come out clear this time.   
  
“ _ Please  _ let me come, sir.” Rhys’ breathing is sounding better now, but he’s still got this desperate whine to his voice, and Jack hums and puts his hand back up to Rhys face. Rhys keens and presses against it, Jack’s hand already wet with his tears.    
  
“No,” Jack coos. Rhys’ mouth drops open and Jack pulls his foot away, pushing Rhys down so his mouth is in line with Jack’s dick. Rhys lets out a sob, his crying starting up anew, his whole body shaking and he’s curling in on himself like Jack had hit him. Jack grips his chin, squeezing hard enough to bruise as he pulls Rhys against him, his dick pressing hard against Rhys’ cheek.    
  
Rhys’ tears slip down onto him, his sobs bubbling as his breath catches through hiccups. Even though this is going exactly as planned, Jack can’t help but note that Rhys right now is entirely pathetic. Rhys’ tears are making it a little hard to keep his grip, and the weak way he’s sniveling makes Jack snarl, lust and disgust mixing pleasantly. He presses his thumb hard against the port on Rhys’ temple, bucking against his face.   
  
“Open your mouth.” He bites out, angry, and Rhys obeys instantly. When he does his noises are suddenly doubled in volume, and Jack shoves his dick into Rhys’ waiting mouth just to shut him up.    
  
And as soon as it came, his anger is gone, melting away into a deep moan that punches out of his throat as Rhys gags. Rhys’ mouth is warm, and wet, and he has to hiss through his teeth and grip Rhys’ face tighter to keep himself from thrusting hard into his mouth. But he knows better, knows Rhys’ needs at least a second to catch his breath, so he pulls out just enough to let Rhys breathe. 

Sure enough, Rhys is sucking in air around him, looking up through half-lidded eyes to stare at Jack. Jack lets his hold on Rhys’ face go slack, running his fingers gently across the forming bruises against his jaw. After a few gasping breaths, Rhys closes his mouth and pulls Jack as far in as he can without choking himself. 

“Showing some initiative, I like it, cupcake,” Jack laughs, petting Rhys’ hair with the hand previously hooked in his collar. Rhys is still crying, but it’s not as loud or as annoying now, and Jack feels an unwanted spike of emotion, an urge to comfort and to protect, and he quells it by thrusting forwards roughly.    
  
Rhys grunts and shifts against his bonds, using his tongue to lap at Jack’s dick. He starts bobbing his head in earnest, only taking his eyes off Jack when he closes them. Jack lets him take the lead for now, hands roaming Rhys’ face. He occasionally brings a hand down and presses against where he’d bit Rhys, earning pained moans from him.    
  
The pleasure is lovely, for a while. It doesn’t take long for him to get bored with it, though, and Jack’s pulling Rhys off him by his hair. Rhys makes a whining noise of protest, pouting through his tears, and Jack laughs. This kid. He’s almost tempted to go back in. Almost.    
  
Instead he puts his hands under Rhys’ arms and pulls him up and off the toy. Rhys moans at the feeling, practically drooling at the sensation, it’s cute. Jack brings him forwards and watches with dark satisfaction as Rhys tries his damndest to stand up on weak, shaking legs. Rhys couldn’t run away from him right now even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t make it half a foot before he’d fall over.    
  
Jack releases Rhys just to watch him crumple to the ground. Rhys makes a little frightened sound as he pitches forwards, just managing to use his shoulder to catch himself against Jack’s leg opposed to falling face first into the floor. Jack bends down and grabs the leash again, turning around and slinging it over his shoulder like he might a bag or a dead body.    
  
He’s walking towards his desk before Rhys even has a chance to open his mouth in question. The noise Rhys makes is  _ delightful _ . Jack glances over his shoulder so he can watch as Rhys practically falls over himself trying to move with Jack, just barely keeping himself from choking. He’s not doing a very good job of it, either.    
  
Rhys is scrambling on his knees, head twisted up to try and keep the pressure off of him as he crawls forwards. When they get to the stairs Rhys has particular trouble, and Jack actually has to stop to let him climb them. Can’t have Rhys passing out before the real fun's begun. Jack tugs on the leash, moving to his chair and dropping into it heavily, sighing. Rhys comes to a stop at his feet, panting and curling in on himself. 

  
“Sorry, kitten, I was dead on my feet,” Jack says, not sorry at all. Rhys looks up at him. He’s still crying. Jack honestly doesn’t think he’s going to stop any time soon, actually. “You’re looking a little worn out yourself. Why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap, cupcake?”   
  
Rhys turns bright red and his mouth drops open. Jack doesn’t give him time to form words, though, dragging Rhys forwards by the leash. He keeps pulling even when Rhys is right up against his legs, angling his arm upwards. Rhys makes a noise, broken through the tightness of the collar, and he’s standing on weak legs. He’s a sight.    
  
His dick is flushed red and leaking between his legs, entire body shaking - whether from effort or pleasure, Jack’s not sure, but it’s not like it really matters. He reaches out a hand, cupping Rhys’ hip to manhandle him up into his lap. Rhys goes easily, if slowly, spreading his legs out on either side of Jack’s own.    
  
Rhys keeps himself from sitting down on Jack’s thighs, but it’s obviously hard for him. Jack smirks and moves forwards, dropping the leash and wrapping his arms around Rhys in a gentle hug - of sorts. Rhys hiccups into his shoulder, pressing his cheek against Jack’s shirt hard and nuzzling like he’s a dog. He lets him. Jack rests his hands against Rhys’ ass, kissing his way across his neck. Rhys hiccups pitifully.    
  
“Aw, come on, it’s not  _ that  _ bad,” Jack’s aiming to sound somewhat caring, though the smirk plastered on his face ruins it. Oh well. While he talks Jack lines Rhys up with his dick, amusement growing in him at the realization that Rhys hasn’t noticed yet, too preoccupied cuddling his shoulder. Jack’s smirk twists into a wicked grin.   
  
“Why’re you still crying, huh, cupcake?” Jack prods, slipping one hand under Rhys so he can grip himself. Rhys pulls back a little, just enough to look up at Jack. Jack cocks a brow. “Well?”   
  
“I - I  _ really  _ need to come, sir.” Rhys’ voice is high and whiny. Jack hums, pressing another kiss to his neck.    
  
_ “Really?”  _ Jack laughs this time, and Rhys frowns at him.    
  
“Yes, Jack, I -  _ fuck!”  _ Rhys’ whole body shifts as Jack pulls him down fully onto his dick, thrusting upwards. Jack laughs, loud and dark and amused, reveling in the way Rhys lets oud a hiccuping moan.    
  
Placing his hands on Rhys’ hips, Jack gently rocks Rhys against him as he presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. Rhys tries to go for a kiss, but without the use of his arms he can’t really get a good hold on Jack to keep him from pulling away. Though it’s not like he could  _ with  _ his hands, anyway. Jack is about ten times stronger than Rhys, so unless he wanted to there was no way Rhys could pull him down into a kiss. So as Rhys tries for one, Jack easily dodges and Rhys ends up with a face full of shoulder again.    
  
He whines,voice strained high on tension as Jack keeps pulling Rhys down to fuck him. It’s cute. He can tell Rhys is overstimulated, can tell by the way his face is twisted up in a grimace and how he’s so rigid against Jack it probably hurts. The angle that Jack’s holding Rhys at keeps his dick from getting any sort of contact, not even bouncing up to hit his stomach - Jack’s going too slow and gentle for it.    
  
Rhys’ hair is all over the place, sticking out at odd angles from when Jack’d raked his fingers through it, face damp with his tears. He’s loud, even with how gentle Jack’s being, moaning on every downward movement. Jack’s pleased that his office is soundproofed.    
  
Jack would normally make Rhys take over here, make him fuck himself on Jack’s dick, but honestly he doesn’t think Rhys can sit up straight by himself right now. Heat’s just now starting to coil tight in his stomach, Jack’s release building, and he’s tempted to stave it off just to see how far he can push Rhys before he really breaks.    
  
But he’s getting bored, wants to do something else, so he pulls Rhys tight against his body so there’s no chance he’ll fall off on accident. With no other warning Jack bucks up  _ hard,  _ a growl punching out of his throat, and Rhys is shouting  _ right  _ into his ear.    
  
Jack clicks his tongue, head snapping away from Rhys sharply at the noise. That doesn’t stop him though, Jack starting up a bruising pace. The angles a little weird, one hand wrapped around Rhys’ torso and the other at his hip, but Jack’s too pent up to really care. Rhys is crying  _ really  _ hard now, nearly hyperventilating with it. But Rhys isn’t trying to pull away, he’s not trying to stop anything, so Jack ignores it and keeps going.    
  
He’s  _ so  _ close now, can feel it in his gut, he just needs something to push him over. A thought occurs to him and Jack grabs Rhys by the neck, leaning back as he keeps Rhys sitting up by his grip only.    
  
Rhys chokes and strains against the hold, but Jack just tightens his grip and keeps thrusting, watching with dark amusement as Rhys bounces in his hold - choking himself on each downfall. Jack’s knuckles go white and he throws his head back.   
  
“Fuck,” He curses, coming hard. His vision darkens for a moment, dark spots dancing across his eyesight and it takes him a minute to blink them away. When Jack finally does come to he’s panting hard, and he pushes his hair out of his face with a hum. And Rhys.    
  
Rhys is still held up by his neck, his eye rolled up and mouth dropped open on a silent scream. He looks like he’s just a few seconds from passing out though, so Jack slips his hand down to Rhys’ shoulder to hold him up instead. Rhys sucks in a gasping breath, coughing through his tears and he rocks down on Jack’s softening dick, Jack wincing. He pulls Rhys up and off him, careful to keep him from falling onto the floor. Jack eyes Rhys’ dick, laughing.   
  
“Well done, Rhysie. I would have thought you’d have blown it by now.” Jack purrs, moving so he’s inches away from Rhys’ face. “Do you think you deserve a reward for that, pumpkin?” Rhys nods his head frantically, a little ‘please’ slipping past his lips, even. Jack smiles, all teeth, bumping foreheads with Rhys.    
  
“I guess I can, this time.” Jack says, and pushes forwards and closes his mouth over Rhys’ in a hard kiss. Rhys moans into it, dropping all his weight - not held back by Jack - into the kiss, opening his mouth instantly for Jack. He’s just so eager.    
  
Jack snakes a hand behind him, pushing three fingers into Rhys without any warning - Rhys just moans again. Jack wonders if he could manage to fit another finger in there, but he’s not really in the mood to try. Instead he gets his other hand up under Rhys’ thighs and  _ lifts  _ him up, walking over to his desk.    
  
Rhys almost falls backwards, but Jack’s careful to balance him correctly so he doesn’t. Jack bites Rhys lip hard before dropping him down onto the desk, fingers slipping out of him in the same motion. Rhys is panting hard, chanting unintelligible as his head rolls side to side. He manages to knock over a pencil cup, and Jack shoves it off the desk with his hand.    
  
Then he’s pulling Rhys’ legs up over his shoulders, dropping down onto one knee so he’s the same level as Rhys’ dick. It’s not going to take much to push Rhys over the edge - his dick is basically leaking a constant stream of come. Jack doesn't even bother for hesitation, moving forwards and pulling Rhys fully into his throat in one movement. Rhys  _ screams.  _ __  
__  
It takes one, two, three bobs of his head and a swallow before Rhys is coming down Jack’s throat hard, sobbing hard into his own shoulder, a drawn out ‘huh’ slipping from his lips tight and overworked.    
  
Jack waits until Rhys goes fully limp against him before pulling back, swallowing with a grimace. Gross. He moves back up, draping himself bodily over Rhys and he’s kissing him again, much more gently this time.    
  
“You’re lucky I like you, kitten.” Jack says, annoyed but not really angry. Rhys just barely manages to laugh, shifting slightly. When he doesn’t respond further Jack pulls back, eyeing him. Rhys is entirely fucked out - he can’t even open his eyes, entirely limp against the desk. Jack grins. Nice.


End file.
